A Dove With Claws (Of Wolves, Bulls, and Birds)
by Smasma
Summary: What if Sansa escaped Kingslanding to join Arya and the gang heading North? What would the stark sisters do, where would this lead them, and who would this effect? In need of Beta! Same fic posted in Game of Thrones
1. Drink Me

_Note: I'm a pretty awful writer, but this has been in my head for a while. Please review, I really need constructive criticism! (and a Beta) Thank-you! _

_You can find this work (updated more) on ao3: Smasma  
_

_Disclaimer: Characters by George RR Martin and Cover Photo by **te-gr **on** deviantart**_

* * *

_Drink, if you want to go home._

She read the words a hundred times, waiting for the delicate script to disappear, as if she never found it wrapped around the small vial she now held. What could it mean? Was it only a cruel trick sent from the Queen or Joffrey? Another of his gifts?

She held the note over the candle, watching it catch. Felt in curling and blackening, until the flames licked at her fingers. Let them do their worst. She uncorked the vial, and a sweet essence floated to her nose. She could only hope it would be as sweet as it smells.

_Drink, if you want to go home._

Maybe it would let her dream of home. To live out her days in Winterfell, with Mother, Robb and Bran and Rickon, and even Jon and Arya. And Father. Father, where his head would still be on his shoulders and not rotting for crows to peck at.

Or it would end her life for true. They would find her lying in peace and forever innocent, shaming them for what they did . . .yes, this time she would be brave.

Warmth spread down her throat, as she tipped the vial back, seeping into her veins to the tips of her toes and the pit of her gut. It distracted her from the tenderness where Ser Meryn's mailed fist had hit her and the memories she wanted to keep at bay. Maybe she would no longer have to guard her tongue, or see her father there, ice slicing through his neck and Joffrey's smile.

_Drink, if you want to go home._

Sansa Stark stretched upon the bed, curtains drawn how she had come to like, waiting for the inevitable. She could only hope it would be kind.

Time passed and soon dark spots appeared on the red and gold canopy above her.

As the darkness engulfed her, she thought faintly that there was a shadow moving behind the curtains.

* * *

In the darkness she heard the familiar voices.

_"Your Grace, there seems to be no injury . . ." an old man said trailing off ". . . bruised ribs . . . lacerations"_

_"Little girls don't just die in their sleep!" a voice hissed._

_"She has no pulse of breath, Your Grace, there is naught I can do now."_

_"They have Jaime you buggering twat! They can not know she's dead!" the woman paused, taking a deep breath. "Round up any servants who have come the last few days and send them to the black cells. Bring her body to the sea, and make sure no one sees, or I'll have your head!" the woman whispered dangerously._

_"There will be no need. Your Grace. I will make the arrangements." a new voice spoke_

_"Thank-you. Varys. I hope you'll keep your birds quiet on the matter?"_

_"Of course, Your Grace, we can't let little doves get away."_

_The voices trailed off to silence, and she heard no more._

* * *

Waves lapped around her, still in infinite black, and she felt a light rocking. Am I dead? She thought, but then a breeze picked at her hair and her face cooled at the salt spray.

"It must be scary, thinking you're going to be cast to sea when you aren't truly dead . . ." A voice sighed. Lord Varys. "But, then again, my little birds whisper about a certain lady standing on the edges of balconies . . . . . did you ever hear of how I came to be? A eunuch that is, though you might have put that down to nasty rumors." He tittered, then grew serious. "Alas, they are true. I was once a mummer, owned by my master, until the day came and he received an offer too good to refuse. This new man gave me a potion rendering me powerless to move or speak, yet did nothing to dull my senses, much the same as what I gave you." He paused, as if in thought. "I will spare you the rest of the story, Lady Sansa, and though our stories are not the same, I feel you must have felt much as I had there, here; powerless to say or do anything as you become a plaything and pawn in this game. Why must it be the innocents who suffer when the high lords play their game? I serve the realm, and the war will go on, but Sansa Stark has no place here . . . sleep, little dove" he said, as she floated away "I will see you soon."

* * *

Bright light assaulted her eyes, closed behind lids. Had it all been a dream?

"Ah, you're awake." The same voice cut off her thoughts.

_Drink if you want to go home._

Is she finally home? Finally free of the lions?

She opened her eyes, hoping. _Praying_. Instead she saw a fat man in a filthy patched robe smiling before her, the one that spoke. The light was not the only thing that assaulted her eyes, she thought as she sat up and saw his boots to be covered in mud. But she also saw his soft white hands under layers of dirt, and the hint of flowers behind his sweaty smell, his plump face and coy eyes. It was certainly a change from the powdered face and robes and slippers, but his voice gave him away.

"Lord Varys," she breathed, but she'd already known.

"You are a clever girl, but as you will know soon, the eye sees only what it wants to see."

She looked around._ Drink if you want to go home._ This is not home. She was in an abandoned shack it seemed. Outside the windows, trees were bright with light and life. The small wood room bared no more than the cot she layed on and a table with chairs on the dirt floor. Varys stooped down to retrieve a brown cotton bag from under the cot and pulled out something wrapped in a handkerchief.

"I know, you are not home yet." He handed her the handkerchief "I take it you will like this, and I am sorry to say it will be the last you'll have in a long time, child," he said, as she unwrapped it keenly.

"A lemoncake!" she squealed happily, before taking large bites and swallowing the sweet, tart cake, half chewed. She did not realize how hungry she was. She finished the pastry, all too fast.

"Th-thank-you, my lord."

Varys smiled. "The innocence of a child, even after what she has seen and endured." he sighed.

She stayed silent. He had been there, on Baelor's steps . . . Varys pulled more from the rough spun strip of cloth, small-clothes, a tunic, wool breeches, and a belt.

"I trust you know how to clothe and bind yourself?" She nodded. "Good, you will be leaving within the hour."

"And what of you, lord Varys?" he turned around and looked at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes

"Why, little dove, I'll keep on paddling." With that he walked out of the small shack.

She could barely process it all. He'd gotten her out by making her seem dead, but why? She'd come far enough to know they always want something in return. He was her last hope, this plan. She could reach Winterfell, even if it meant living as a little bastard boy for a while. She quickly tore off her nightdress, now days old, and took the long strip of cloth. Bind yourself. She supposed she was becoming more womanly, but she'd never had to do such before. With a sigh, she began wrapping it around herself, tight at first, but eventually looser until she tucked the last end in. Sansa donned the small clothes, breeches, tunic, and lastly the belt at her waist. I must look like Arya now, she mused, before the thought saddened her. Where are you sister?

"I . . . I'm finished!" She called out. Varys reappeared looking pleased.

"Yes, that will do, except . . ."

"What?" she asked, what more could she do? He looked at her, but more specifically her hair.

"Oh" she'd almost forgotten, the familiar weight of her auburn hair there as always. It was the last thing she had of her mother down in this Gods forsaken place. Varys reached into his patchy cloak to produce a small curved knife. No, he could not mean to . . . but then she knew he must, what choice did she have? No boy would have long girly hair.

"Do not worry child, I am quite practiced with mine own." he motioned to his bald head.

She would have laughed if not in the current situation. She turned around, feeling tears pricking at her eyes. She wiped at them angrily. No, I will not cry over hair like a child, she thought, not anymore. The cold blade touched her forehead as he gently gathered hair in his palm and began cutting, her long red-gold tresses falling to the floor. By the time he finished, her head was shorn of every hair, only a light stubble remaining and her head feeling light.

The sudden rumble and creak came with the sound of horse hooves hitting the ground. The gold cloaks, she thought and quickly cowered to the cot. They'd found her! Joffrey would kill her! the Queen! Varys seemed to see her fear, and grabbed her arms.

"Don't fret, this is the farmer you'll travel with until you reach the group of Nights Watch recruits. Here take this." He produced a small sealed parchment.

She took it in her hand and looked at the blank seal, then at the plump man before her. He waved at her until she put it down her shirt, and lightly tucked it into her bindings.

"Remember who you are, yes?"

She nodded and took a deep breath, quelling the fear in her breast. "Sam Rivers."

"Yes, when you arrive, give that to Yoren and only Yoren."

"But-but how am I to know?"

"You will know. This man is taking you up the kings road, they are only a day or so ride's north." She nodded as he lead her out to the front of the shack where an old man led a wagon pulled by mules.

"Thank-you," she whispered.

He nodded and smiled. "I hope to never see you again, Sam Rivers." he spoke, but not unkindly. The opposite in fact, and she realized that she didn't either.

He handed her the rough-spun bag as she climbed onto the back of the wagon and **smiled** for the first time in what felt like years.


	2. Beer and Lace

_Note: I'm a pretty awful writer, but this has been in my head for a while. Please review, I really need constructive criticism! (and a Beta) Thank-you!_

_You can find this work (updated more) on ao3: Smasma  
_

_Disclaimer: Characters by George RR Martin and Cover Photo by **te-gr **on** deviantart**_

* * *

The day passed in near silence, apart from the occasional mumbling of the elderly farmer about silver and boys and fat oafs. As the sun crossed the bright blue sky, she suddenly wished she had spent more time like Arya; learning to read stars and the time of day.

The wagon rumbled along at a steady pace, but too slow. They would realize something was amiss, find the vial, or something of the such. What was Joffrey doing now? Wishing for his doll to be beaten and battered for one wrong word or look? Was Robb on his way to get her, believing she still lived? Sansa ran the questions in her head and didn't know she fell asleep until the mules stopped and the farmer jumped off. The blue sky had faded into a lovely orange, but the farmer cut off her thoughts. They'd stopped at a stooped inn. Hot food will do me good.

"You'll have t' go on your own now, lad." He grumbled, his grey mustache and beard moving with each word.

"But your supposed to bring me to the Night's Watch recruits." He'd been payed, he couldn't just stop here!

"I got me silver, for all 'e knows ya' there already," he said "Too many comin' down South, sayin' there ain't nothin' but death past 'ere."

"You gave your word!" Sansa pleaded, but she already knew a man's word was nothing, not like in the songs.

"Aye, I did," he said "You can take one of 'em mules, and be glad for that." She couldn't even ride properly, she thought miserably.

He left it at that and went into the inn, flicking a few coppers at a stable boy to take care of the beasts. She looked helplessly at the young boy, no more than ten. He just shrugged and began releasing the grey mules from the wagon before handing her the reins of one.

He looked toward the inn where his master was sure to be. "I'll fetch ya an old saddle" he whispered

"Thank-you." He put one mule in the stables before reappearing with a sagging leather saddle. It was indeed old.

"Could you, um . . ." she trailed off, embarrassed she couldn't saddle a horse, much less a donkey.

"Sure, must be from the city, ain't ya?"

"Yes" she mumbled, and gladly took the reins to be on her way, ignoring his attempts at further conversation. Holding onto the mules neck, she clumsily put a foot in a stirrup and pulled herself atop. Well, this is different, she thought, missing the comfort of riding side-saddle like a proper lady. I'm just a bastard boy, now, I can survive riding this old thing.

She took one last look at the little ram-shackle inn before riding away into the darkening land.

* * *

The going was slow, that much was sure, and she'd nearly fallen off the little grey thing five times. The smooth rocking had lulled her to sleep just as many, but she kept on, snapping awake. I'm going home, she reminded herself to keep pushing through the night.

The woods would clear into meadows and farms, even a small town. She was sure the markets would be full at day time, but now they were eerily quiet with only the venders mulling about. They'd have food on the morrow, she thought, but kept riding on.

The road was less trafficked, but she still felt glad for her garb. Some of the men she'd seen passing had a queer look to their eyes, and she knew they'd have acted differently if she was in a dress. The mob in flea-bottom came to mind, the three haggard men ripping at her dress and small clothes, unlacing their own before the Hound had saved her. She shook her head at the memory.

Wolves howled in the distance, and soon enough the first rays of light made her path clear, as people woke to go about their work. When she was passing an orchard laden with apples, her stomach panged painfully, forcing her to stop. Other than the lemon cake, she could not recall when she last ate.

"You're not thinking of steal in' some of our apples, are you?" A man spat behind her. She whipped around.

"N-no ser, just resting." Sansa answered meekly

He eyed her warily, unsatisfied with her answer. He had a big hooked nose and pig-eyes.

"We'd enough lil' boys stealing our apples with that damn crow."

"A crow . . . like the Night's Watch?" He spat again

"Aye, bunch of thieving murderers, what's it to you, boy?" He leaned closer.

"How long ago did they pass?" Sansa took a step back toward her little mule, and he made no further attempt to near.

"Just a day past . . ." he paused "I ain't gotta be answering no questions, now move on!"

She quickly tucked her head and climbed back on the mule. I wasn't going to steal, she thought, and her stomach rumbled. She nudged the mule to go, and once she escaped the man's accusing eyes she pulled a small loaf of bread from the pack.

She took a bite. It was hard and dry, scratching her tongue. It's better than nothing, I suppose, though an apple would have been nice.

The traffic grew thicker, all day they passed. Little children, thin as reeds, old folks as well. Girls with babes at their breast, others with donkeys or mules like hers, or even wagons like the old farmer. They all went in the same direction, many looking forward with hollow eyes, others warily telling her she was heading the wrong way. How could they be like this, she thought. She knew the small folk did not have the same luxuries, but the people, the children, we're starving. One woman even had bloody feet, and she screamed at her, pointing with thin grubby fingers.

"Fool! They'll kill you, fool!" Sansa turned away and kept going.

Soon after, mounds of dirt on the side of the roads began appearing, some even had crystals. She'd wondered what they were, until she realized with horror. Graves. They're all graves.

That night, she was so tired she nearly fell from the mule in the village they were crossing.

She decided to name her Lacey even though she was nowhere as fine as lace. She'd brought her far and was a sweet thing. At least, she thought it was a she. Lacey needed sleep as well, and her stomach grumbled heavily when she neared an ivy-covered inn, the smell soap and ale and stew flowing to her nose. It was the best smell she'd ever smelt, she thought, and nearly kept going when she saw how crowded it was, but the thought of a hot meal forced her to stop.

She hoped Lord Varys gave her some coins, but in the bag she found nothing but the stale bread. With a sigh, she could only pray she would reach this Yoren soon.

Maybe they'd give me a bit for free, she thought.

She dismounted Lacey, tying her reins to a tree beside a patch of grass. Men were sitting outside a bathhouse, and more were inside the inn. She smelt herself. Oh how she wished for a hot bath with oils, but she would not have such for a long time. Instead, she took in her surroundings. Several wagons sat laden with food, probably heading south. One had a cage on it, and when Sansa looked closer, she noticed it held not animals, but men. Three to be exact. Why are they in cages? She did not want to find out.

She headed for the inn, reaching for the door before it burst open, a small boy with dirty dark hair stomping out angrily, muttering something as he stalked off kicking dirt and a rock.

Sansa went through the door. Men and boys sat eating pies and apples and drinking beer. Her mouth watered at the thought.

A stooped man in faded grey and black sat at a table talking lively with men and an old woman around him.

"Don't pay attention to the drunk boy, he hasn't a clue what he's speaking of." he said. It must be the one that ran out a moment before.

"Either way, the wolves will get you on the way North." said a man in a stained green cloak. "If not them, the damn soldiers will get ya."

"I said, it don't matter, the Watch takes no part." the first spat

The Watch? It must be Yoren, she thought.

"Ser," she started meekly, knowing it was rude and improper to interrupt. "Pardon me, ser, are you heading to the Wall?"

"Might be so, why do you ask?"

She leaned to his ear. He smelt sour, his black beard tickled her cheek.

"I have a message." She reached into her bosom for the parchment. She faced away from the others and handed it to Yoren.

He looked at her oddly, but took it anyways, tucking it into his cloak.

"Have some ale and pork pie, you don't need no permission to join us, boy."

Sansa sighed in relief, and sat nearby under a window with a tankard and the pie the innkeep had given her. It was glorious, though after a sip of the ale she wrinkled her nose. Wine was ever so much finer, but she drank it anyways. At the last bite of her pie, she was about to search for some of the baked apples she'd seen earlier when the crowded inn went silent. They heard a shout from outside.

"You the ones left to take the black?"

Yoren stood quickly and went to the door. She peered out the window and her heart stopped. A gold cloak jumped off his horse. "I have a warrant for a certain boy—" she felt like she would vomit. How did they find me?

Yoren walked out. "Who is it wants this boy?" The door shut behind him.

The inn remained quiet, but she could still only hear bits and pieces of the conversation. She prayed Yoren didn't know who she was. Sansa crouched below the window, peeking over its sill.

The leader of the Gold Cloaks pulled out a sealed warrant. Yoren took it.

"Thing is, the boy's in the Night's Watch now. What he done back in the city don't mean piss-all."

The Gold Cloak didn't seem to care. Sansa thought about running, but where was there to go? Out the front door where'd they'd see her. She couldn't fight . . .

He pulled out a shortsword, and Yoren nearly laughed. Another gold cloak pulled his sword, before some of the recruits began standing. One pulled out a pitchfork, another a hammer and soon all the men were pulling weapons. Why would they fight for her? She'd only just gotten here.

A naked man stepped out of the bathhouse and she felt a blush rising to her cheeks until he pulled out a dagger.

The Gold Cloak with the crooked nose turned round and laughed again. She saw the little boy that'd nearly knocked her over earlier jump out from behind a hedge, a small, thin sword in her hands. It looks so familiar, Sansa thought. He looks familiar.

This just seemed to amuse the man more, and the first looked at the boy. "Put the blade away, little girl, no one wants to hurt you."

A girl? "I'm not a girl!" the little one yelled angrily in a shrill voice. Maybe it is a girl . . .

"I'm the one you want." he said. She said? But it was wrong, all wrong! They were looking for Sansa, not a little orphan, even if she was disguised too.

A tall handsome boy stepped behind the tiny one with a sword in hand, and the Golds Cloak motioned to him.

"He's the one we want."

As he talked, Yoren's blade went to his throat, and after a few choice words, the mans fingers let loose on his blade. The rest sheathed their blades.

"You'd best scamper ip to that wall of yours in a hurry, old man." he said, loud enough for all to hear. "The next time I catch you, I believe I'll have your head to go with the bastard boy's."

With that they left. She sighed in relief and a fat boy whooped, before Yoren whipped around angrily at him. He told them to get moving, they'd be riding all night. Sansa quickly went outside when she heard Yoren talking to the little one and the other bastard boy. She walked towards Lacey before Yoren stopped her.

"Now why'd you come along with a pretty paper just before them, . . ." He paused, looking at her expectantly.

"San-Sam Rivers, ser."

"You best hope it was a coincidence, Sam. I don't need no more bloody ribbons." Yoren spat.

He pulled out the parchment and quickly unsealed it. She watched while he read, and once he was done he looked at her warily.

"Another damned Stark." he mumbled, and she strained to hear ". . . I have someone you'll be wanting to see, boy."


	3. Dogs and Bulls

_Note: I'm a pretty awful writer, but this has been in my head for a while. Please review, I really need constructive criticism! (and a Beta) Thank-you!_

_You can find this work (updated more) on ao3: Smasma  
_

_Disclaimer: Characters by George RR Martin and Cover Photo by **te-gr **on** deviantart**_

* * *

The air caught in her throat, and she didn't think she could speak. It wasn't possible. It wasn't, yet here she stood.

"Arya?" Sansa croaked, her knees buckled and hit the ground, but no pain could be felt, only her heart breaking and simultaneously mending at the prospect of family, of home.

The girl with tufts of hair and dirt on her face and clothes looked down at her. It all made sense now, no wonder she thought the gold cloaks were after her. Sansa wouldn't have recognized her until Yoren brought them to each other. Now Sansa could tell Arya would never be able to hide her Stark look, the steely grey eyes, which were now filled with fear.

"Arya, it's me." She begged, her face wet with tears.

"Sansa?" Her sister's eyes grew wide, and in a flash she pounced on Sansa, crushing her into a hug.

"I'm not alone," she cried "I'm not alone." Sansa wrapped her arms around her. I'm not alone. When Arya looked up, tears running down her face, she ran a hand over Sansa's head and suddenly laughed. A laugh so full of life that Sansa found herself laughing as well.

"I guess we look alike now!" She giggle, feeling what was left of Arya's hair.

"Yes, but how are you here?" Arya untangled from her sister and stood up, pulling her with.

"It's a long story . . . and what about you? You went missing."

"I was with Syrio when the kings guard came" Sansa flinched. "They didn't do anything," Arya added quickly "At least, not to me."

"I'm sorry." For what Arya had to see and for what she never wanted to admit, being the cause of it all. She pulled her sister into a hug one last time.

"San—" Arya started.

"Sam," she corrected.

"Yes, Sam, and Arry for me. We have to be careful, we can't act like sisters."

"I know, we'll have to say we used to be friends."

"Like brothers." Arya whispered and smiled and Sansa thought she never looked half as beautiful as she did now. "We need to go back to the column."

They walked silently after that, leaving the woods to catch up to the group as they left the Inn.

* * *

The road they took now was more like a boar path, but at least they didn't have to pass the starving men and woman. Gendry still looked at her oddly.

"What?" She snapped. She was sick of everyone staring.

"Who is he?" he asked for the millionth time, along with Lommy and Hot-Pie who she shooed away just as many times, riding his destrier beside hers.

She'd offered to give hers to Sansa, but she said she liked her Lacey. Arya laughed when she saw her struggling up onto the little thing, but stopped when Sansa nearly fell back off in exhaustion. Now she held the reins as her sister slumped in her saddle against the mule's neck, fast asleep.

She still couldn't believe her sister was here, much less bald and in boy's clothing. The girl she knew would never put up with these conditions, but she'd changed. Arya wondered what happened in Kingslanding once she'd left. She never hated Joffrey or the Queen more than now. She wanted to ask Sansa, but how could she with everyone around? They couldn't know.

"Sam was an orphan like me in Kingslanding. We were practically brothers." She lied, relenting.

Gendry didn't look convinced, but left it at that.

Arya looked between Sansa and over her shoulder constantly, sure the gold cloaks would reach them soon. Every so often Sansa would pop awake, her eyes wide, until Arya told her they were safe, to go back to sleep. She has to survive, she thought, we have to survive.

When they finally stopped after the long march in a wood clearing that night, she set up her furs by Gendry's, and grabbed extra for Sansa. She looked so peaceful, still asleep, hugging Lacey.

"Gendry, could you?"

He sighed and looked at her sister.

* * *

She was dreaming of the mob in Flea-Bottom, of the Hound carrying her away. She opened her eyes to say thank-you, but instead of the scarred face, bright blue eyes peered down at her beneath hair as black as ink. Sansa gasped.

"S'alright" he said quickly, putting her gently down on some furs. "We're making camp, you'd been asleep all day, Arry didn't want to wake you." She'd almost forgotten about her sister. It just didn't seem real.

She nodded. He was the one the gold cloaks wanted. She wondered what he'd done for the Queen to want him . . . he looked so familiar; his fine straight nose, high cheekbones, and square jaw. Sansa blushed and realized she was staring. She laughed inwardly. It didn't matter now if he was handsome when she looked like a gutter rat. And besides, he was a low-born bastard.

She could have sworn his face was turning red too, but pushed the thought away.

"Sam, this is Gendry." Arya came from behind him "He's . . . my friend." Apparently she wasn't the only one who noticed his fair face.

She cleared her throat. "Thank-you. Gendry."

"S'nothing." He smiled. Gods, it just made him look all the better. She tore gaze away and looked at the camp. They were settling down with no fire, eating dry sausage and bread, and Yoren drinking from a wine-skin. She must've slept the whole day, yet she was still exhausted. She layer down on her furs, and Arya sat beside her. Gendry returned with the meager fair they were all eating and gave them both a portion. They ate in silence until she could take it no more.

"Why did the Queen want you?" Sansa blurted out.

Arya looked up curiously as if she'd been wanting to ask the same, as well as a boy with light straw-like hair and green hands, and the fat boy who whooped at the inn.

Gendry stiffled and looked down, his face growing red. "I didn't do nothing to no Queen." He said angrily. "I was an apprentice until Master Mott sent me away." He got up and went to a rock, polishing something round and shiny.

"I bet he's that traitor's bastard," The boy green-hands whispered. "The one they nicked on Baelor's steps."

She felt as if she'd been slapped. He wasn't a traitor! Jon was the only bastard her Lord Father had, he was honorable! Before she could reply, Arya looked at her while she said "He is not!"

"And what about you?" he questioned Sansa. "You came out of no where and suddenly Arry's taken a liken to you."

"I'm a bastard as well, so if you're going to insult him, you're insulting me too," she declared, proud of her answer.

Arya smiled. "Yeah, so why don't you bugger off, Lommy," she added. The boy looked affronted before standing and stalking off, the fat boy following. Gendry had looked up and his lips twitched, trying to hold back a smile. He stubbornly stayed where he was, polishing.

"What's he polishing?" She leaned towards Arya while she whispered.

"It's a helm he made, a bulls helm," she answered, looking at him. "He's talented, but I'd never tell him that."

Sansa giggled, of course not, Arya wasn't like other ladies.

That night, on the cold hard ground with her sister in her arms, she slept better than she ever had on a featherbed.


	4. Burns and Bruises

_Note: I'm a pretty awful writer, but this has been in my head for a while. Please review, I really need constructive criticism! (and a Beta) Thank-you!_

_You can find this work (updated more) on ao3: Smasma  
_

_Disclaimer: Characters by George RR Martin and Cover Photo by **te-gr **on** deviantart**_

* * *

**Whack**! her stick had sounded, fast as a snake, striking the fat rabbit dead. They may be faster than cats, but not me Arya had snickered. She'd brought it back to camp, and laughed when Sansa had made a disgusted face. Yoren cooked it over the fire, having given her a leg while the rest went shared in a stew. Her sister wasn't so disgusted when she got to share the leg with Arya, and they had both given up a portion for Gendry.

* * *

That was days ago, their last taste of meat. Their stomachs grumbled but neither made complaint. Sansa had been with them for over a fortnight, and though she seems well adapted, Arya could here her pained looks.

They'd taken to stealing from fields until field hands surrounded them demanding pay for the sweetcorn. Sansa said she'd passed an apple orchard a while back looking for them, and the field hand there also had some choice words about Yoren.

The day after, one of the men warned of a big camp ahead, forcing them to take the long way around. Even riding was taxing, and at night Sansa would turn restlessly, saddle sores sprouting on her legs, and complaining that she wished she could ride side-saddle. Arya would have laughed, but her sister was working hard.

Hunger made it hard to speak, instead the girls spent there time in companionable silence with Gendry, and sometimes Hot Pie or Lommy. A few nights later and the sky was ablaze, like a new sun had formed in the night.

The Black Brother who seemed to be growing more anxious by each day announced it to be fire. As it got darker, the fire only seemed to become brighter, until the whole horizon was awaited with red light. That night she and Sansa cowered close to Gendry who only huffed in annoyance.

They were awake already by the next morning, having watched the fire sputter out in the distance, and soon they reached where it had been. Sansa gasped, tears forming in her eyes, but Arya only looked forward with a steely expression. Where once there were fields only remained coals and ash. A whole village turned into an empty husk over night, even the holdfast.

"What are those?" Sansa pointed to the black moving masses on the ground, moving closer to Arya.

As if on cue, those masses cawed and flew, revealing the crisp carcasses of animals on the ground.

Sansa did not ask what the other black things were, only clung to her. The corpses impaled on stakes at the top of the wall, red cracking through their hardened black shells were clear enough from afar.

Yoren called for Murch and Cutjack to climb the Holdfast's gate with him, leaving the rest of them to guard the wagons.

"Who would do this? How could they let this happen?" Sansa spoke to no one in particular. Arya wished she had an answer.

Yoren returned with a little girl with dirty hair and green eyes in his arms, no older than two, crying loudly. Murch and Cutjack carried a woman in an old torn quilt with a bloody stump of an arm. When the woman only pleaded "Please," again and again. "Please. Please." Rorge and Biter laughed. Sansa looked at them with hatred in her eyes and Murch cursed the fools.

Once the woman had a place in the back of the wagon they moved on. The child still cried, and when he saw Sansa trying to calm her, he gave her the little girl.

"If you're so keen on making the child shut-up, she can ride with you." He rode back to the front.

Sansa looked at her helplessly, but took the child anyways, situating her so her back was to Sansa's front. Even with Sansa cooing in the ear, her crying would not cease.

Arya was about to ride away until Hot Pie came beside her.

"I'm scared," he said, watching the one armed woman thrash. She looked to see the woman flailing uncontrollably.

He looked at Arry with wide eyes, then at her sister. "I never truly kicked no boy to death, Arry. I just sold my mommy's pies, is all."

Arya didn't want to forgive him, but Sansa looked at her.

"Arry, we're all scared here, he didn't mean it." she said over the girl's crying

She wasn't even there! How could she know? She huffed and was about to ride to the front of the column, wishing to get away from Sansa and Hot Pie, especially the crying woman and child, but Sansa grabbed her hand.

"Let's sing her a song, Arry." She said in a wavering voice, looking at the child she held in her arms.

"You know I can't." Arya responded.

"I will!" piped up Hot Pie.

"Really?" Sansa asked incredulously, "What songs do you know?"

"The Bear and the Maiden Fair." he replied, happy to be indulged. He cleared his throat and began:

"A bear there was a bear,

a bear all black and brown

and covered with hair," he sang in a high clear voice.

She looked at him in surprise. She thought he could only bake!

Sansa looked surprised as well before she joined in, her voice beautiful and sweet.

The pair ignored some of the men's snickers, only singing all the louder to cover up the woman's whispers of "Please," and soon enough the child stopped crying only sniffling and whimpering while Sansa hugged her tight. They were quite a sight; the little fat boy, and her tall sister with red stubble growing back on her head.

That night they buried the one-armed woman under a weeping willow.

"I feel awful that I'm relieved," Sansa confessed in a whisper.

"Me too" Arya squeezed her hand.

That night Arya held Sansa close when she cried for the little girl, the woman, and the village they'd seen.

* * *

A scream shattered the silence. Arya snapped awake. When had she fallen asleep? She sat up, expecting to see the child wailing, but she was on the other side of camp, crying alone. She looked over to see Sansa rocking back and forth, wetness glistening on her breeches and furs.

"Sansa-Sam," she shook her head. "What's wrong?"

Her sister looked up with wide blue eyes, no one seemed to have heard her except Arya.

"Answer me."

"I-I," she stuttered.

Light shifted through the trees and she saw the liquid was red. Red like . . . blood.

"Are you okay? Where are you hurt? Why are you bleeding?"

Sansa only shook her head, tears running down her face.

"Don't you understand?" She whispered, voice cracking.

"No . . . did you cut yourself?"

Sansa ignored her. "Help me clean it up."

She stood on shaky legs, clutching her stomach while Arya grabbed the furs, fear coursing through her.

They stumbled to the creek away from camp, Sansa immediately waddled in. The flowing waters reflected clear in the moonlight, before a cloud of deep red surrounded her sister.

"We have to tell Yoren, he-he can patch you up!" Arya turned towards camp and made to run.

"No!" Sansa practically screamed, then continued in a hushed voice "It's-" she took a deep breath "I've flowered."

"Oh," Arya was at a loss for words. She turned back and sat at the edge of the water where she left the furs.

"What am I going to do?" Sansa cried "They'll see the blood, they'll know."

"No, we just—here, take off your breeches and clean them."

Sansa did as she bid while Arya feverishly rubbed at the furs to make the stain go away. Once satisfied with her work she looked up at Sansa still crying. Why'd she have to cry so much?

She waded in the water carefully, trying not to slip on the slimy stones.

"Let me help you." She took the breeches from Sansa and put them under the water, letting most of the blood flow away with the current.

"We'll have to make you rags or something . . ."

"Do you have your sword?" Sansa asked, seeming calmer already.

"Needle? Yes, but we can't cut up anything."

Without a word, Sansa pulled off her tunic. She had thick bandages wrapped around her chest.

"Were you hurt?" Arya asked, worried.

"No, its just a binding," she said as she started unwrapping them. "Gods that feels good." She lowered into the water

"You can cut a few strips from it, but leave enough for me to keep using, you may need it soon, too."

Arya tried not to think about that, but did as instructed. Once she was done she looked at Sansa, waiting for her to come out.

"You might as well wash as well, who knows when we'll get a chance alone."

She supposed she was right, but still looked nervously back in the direction of the camp. With no movement to be seen, she quickly took off her breeches and tunic, leaving her small clothes and plunged in.

"That feels amazing!" she whooped

Sansa giggled and splashed water at her. Arya was about to return the favor, but stopped suddenly.

"Sansa . . ."

"What? What's wrong?" She looked around her.

"What happened?" She asked, stepping forward and taking Sansa's arms in her hands. Up and down, her pale skin was yellow and a faint purple where old bruises healed. On her chest, her back, and her stomach, she was covered in them, and thin scabs where they'd broken. A huge yellow-brown splotch spread from her navel to ribs.

"It's nothing." Her sister said too quickly, snatching her arms away and lowering back into the water.

"It's not nothing!" Arya said angrily, "You're covered in ugly bruises and scars!"

Sansa flinched and looked down. Her shoulders shook, and Arya realized she was crying again.

"I didn't mean it like that . . ." Why'd she always have to say the wrong thing?

"No, you're right, I'm ugly now."

"Sansa." She whispered and waited until she looked up. "Who did this to you?"

"The Kingsguard," Sansa looked away ashamed "Every battle Robb one, any wrong word or look and Joffrey. Joffrey would have them beat me with their mail on."

Arya gasped. She'd kill the fucker!

Sansa looked at her, grey eyes meeting blue. She felt her hands touch hers, forcing her fingers to part. She hadn't realized they were clenched.

"I've never hated anyone so much in my life, Arya. He made me wish I was dead." Sansa's voice shook with anger.

"We'll avenge Father, I promise."

Sansa smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes and hugged her.

"I can't wait to be home." she breathed.

"Me, too . . . we have to go back, before they start waking up."

They reluctantly separated and made their way to their clothes.

Only then did they see someone was waiting for them.


	5. Guarding and Spying

_Note: I'm a pretty awful writer, but this has been in my head for a while. Please review, I really need constructive criticism! (and a Beta) Thank-you!_

_You can find this work (updated more) on ao3: Smasma  
_

_Disclaimer: Characters by George RR Martin and Cover Photo by **te-gr **on** deviantart**_

* * *

It wasn't as big of a surprise as it should have been. Hells, it only took a few days to figure it out with his friend Arry.

Even if she only had tufts of dark hair, she was still pretty, much too pretty for a boy. Though she certainly acted more the latter. The soft curve of her jaw, her bright grey eyes, like the clouds of a storm. Her legs were too curved, and the start of a waist could be seen if the light hit just right, silhouetting her body.

That day they had been heading for the inn, she rode her horse ahead of him. The clouds were turning oranges and pinks as the sun set, and for a moment, the light shined from behind him, illuminating Arry. The tunic she wore turned translucent, and the shadow of her waist and thin arms shone through. In that moment, she glowed. All too soon it ended and the sun disappeared over the horizon. Why would a girl be traveling with the nights watch? He'd thought. From that moment on he swore to protect her, even if she didn't need it. And when the gold cloaks came, he knew, as she crouched beside him and whispered "They're here for me."

Later that night Sam came too, and Arry was much too close to Sam for an orphan, even if they were raised together. Before, Arry's eyes had been empty and hard, distant. They still held the same sadness of before, one shared by her friend, but they weren't as cold. The next day when he'd pulled Sam down from the mule, it became clear that he was truly a she as well. Another one? He'd thought. What are they hiding from? A boy Sam's age would have a broken voice and at least some hair, and would certainly not blush like a maiden when held. Her face was that of a traditional beauty, heart shaped, with light blue eyes, not wild and different like Arry's. Normal girls made him nervous, he thought, but Arry is different.

Gendry had woken when Sam screamed, nearly pissed himself in fact, and heard their hushed conversation about blood before they left together in the direction of the creek. He watched carefully, and when none of the other boys or men moved except to snore in their sleep, he stood quietly and pushed through the forest. He could hear a faint splashing, that grew louder as he neared. He stopped five feet short of the forest's end, turning his back to them and standing watch. Gods know they need a bath, they almost smelled as much as Yoren.

When the splashing stopped and turned to whimpers he thought the worst. They'd seen snakes skimming the surface of the water, what if one bit Sam or Arry? He quickly walked past the edge of the trees, his loud feet breaking sticks, and he cursed himself, but they didn't hear. He promised himself he would leave if nothing was wrong.

Gendry wasn't prepared for what he saw.

Knowing they were girls did not lessen the blow of seeing them naked in each other's arms. Seven Hells. The moon light shined against their skin, now clean from the dirt of the road, revealing them to be fair as snow. Drops of water glistened like stars along their arms, backs, faces, and, he gulped, breasts. Their chests were pressed together in a tight embrace . . . It was innocent, but his cock didn't think so. He could not say how long he stared, but they suddenly separated and walked towards him, small-clothes dripping and clinging, before he could make his escape. It didn't help his situation. Gendry cursed to himself, this was not honorable; Sam was nearly fully developed and Arry . . . Arry was definitely a girl.

He should have just taken the few steps backwards into the forest, but for the life of him his feet wouldn't move.

* * *

She couldn't help but yelp when she saw the large figure standing a few feet from their clothes. Her arms shot up to cover her chest. Stupid, stupid little girl, she thought. How long had he been there? How long had they been there?

Fear coursed through her. It was going to be like the mob, except no one to save her, no one to save Arya. It was obvious what he saw, they were half naked! Seven save them, he was bigger than them, much bigger. Should they run? What if he was one of them from the dungeons? What if he told the others? Yoren wouldn't be able to stop them then . . .

Arya took a step forward, pushing Sansa behind her.

"Who's there?" She called out when the figure did nothing.

It seemed to send a shock through him, and suddenly he turned around.

"No! Don't move." Arya said dangerously, worried he would run back to the group and tell, but he didn't move or take a step, other than bury his head in his hands. Her sister crept forward silently, throwing Sansa her tunic, pulling her own on, and taking her own thin sword out of the pile.

"There's nothing we can do now," Sansa whispered. It's in the gods hands now, she thought.

"I'm s-sorry, Arry, Sam, I didn't— I heard the scream and I thought—I just— I'm sorry!" The man—no, boy, sputtered out, his back turned and heaving.

"Gendry?" Arya stepped forward with her sword held steadily before her.

He groaned. "Oh gods, I was trying to keep watch, to make sure no one came out here, and I heard crying, and I just—I just—I couldn't—"

"Keeping watch?" Arya mocked. "That's a fancy word for spying. Besides, you wouldn't do that for Hot Pie or Lommy." She stated matter of factly.

"I wasn't spying!" He practically yelled, then continued in a quiet voice. "I already knew."

"Knew what?" she snapped.

He ignored her. "What are two girls doing in the Night's Watch anyways?" He said accusingly. "Don't you know what they'd do?

"Of course!" Sansa spoke up "And-and we aren't girls!" she added weakly. It was dark, maybe he didn't see too much . . .

"Really," Gendry scoffed, turning around "How do you explain that?" He held a hand up, motioning to their chests. "I'm not as stupid as they are." He nodded his head towards the camp. Arya dropped her sword, and pushed him. He didn't budge. She would be trying to stifle a giggle, if not for their position.

"We aren't!"

"Then pull out your cock and take a piss. Go on." He stood for a moment, triumph on his face.

"I don't need to!"

"Because you don't have one. You two always go off in the woods to make water, none of the others do that. You must be a pair of girls, if not eunuchs."

"You're the eunuch!"

"Oh really?" He smirked. "You've seen me taking a piss, need me to take out my cock and show you?"

Sansa felt her face grow hot, and Arya had turned a starling shade of pink as well.

"You can't tell anyone," Sansa whispered.

"And will you stop staring so we can dress, stupid?" Arya added hottily.

His smile dropped and his throat's apple bobbed up and down before he quickly turned around. "Sorry . . . and no one will hear about it, not from me." his voice was hoarse.

"Ary—" she took a deep breath, calming her nerves. "Arry, help me with this please," Sansa picked up the binding.

"You might as well cut yourself half as well." She shot a look at Gendry's back. They had been doing so well.

With sword back in hand, Arya quickly cut the long strip in half. With that and the strips she'd cut, it'd barely be enough to wrap around twice. The commotion had made her forget she was a woman-grown now, it'd be harder to hide. She groaned and helped wrap Arya's half around her chest tightly, tucking the loose end, before Arya started doing hers.

"Tighter."

Arya did so to the point that it would be hard to breathe. They let go of their tunics and slipped on their wet breeches. She hoped the stain would be gone, but couldn't tell.

"You can turn around now." Arya stood on tip-toes as she tapped Gendry's shoulder.

He was still flushed red, but seemed relieved.

"You two did need a bath," he quipped, and she hit him on the shoulder.

"Stupid, bull-headed boy." she muttered and he laughed.

Sansa watched the two and smiled. It felt good to have someone they could trust, after all, the Queen wanted him too.


	6. Tears and Ash

_Note: I'm a pretty awful writer, but this has been in my head for a while. Please review, I really need constructive criticism! (and a Beta) Thank-you!_

_You can find this work (updated more) on ao3: Smasma  
_

_Disclaimer: Characters by George RR Martin and Cover Photo by **te-gr **on** deviantart**_

* * *

They should have listened. Arya had been right all along, if only they had listened. Yoren was wrong too, might be that the Night's Watch 'take's no part', but that didn't mean the lion's wouldn't. They always get what they want, don't they?

What a fool I've been, Sansa thought. To think we were safe, to think we were going home. The thick stone walls had given her comfort, but now it was just another cage they couldn't escape.

Thump. Dead brown eye stared at her, blood pouring from his head. She stifled a scream as she scurried further under the wagon, her back hitting the cold stone. We're going to die here, all alone, with no one to remember us by. Mother and Robb will never know of the two orphan boys murdered in Evenfall, left to rot, for crows to eat. The last she'd seen of Arya she'd been atop the wall, gallantly fighting off the men pouring over the holdfast. Her sister was more of a kinght than any Ser, and now she was probably dead, while I hide here like a coward. Sansa wept curling up into a ball.

She closed her eyes tight, trying to block out the screams and burning smoke, the sound of steel against steel and flesh. That's when she heard it. In the midst of boys and men screaming and dying alike, the whimpers and cries of the little girl somehow reached her ears. Sansa opened her eyes. Their in the center, alone, just like she is.

She willed the girl to open her eyes and see her, but she stood there, eyes closed and wailing. I'll have to get her, but then they'd only both be killed. She dug her fingers into the hard ground and dragged herself out, pulling over the dead man. She took the sword clumsily in her hand. Men fell around her, but she only had eyes for the child. If I can't save Arya or myself, let me save her. She ran, the heavy sword weighing her down. Suddenly, she no longer saw the girl, but a man, sneering beneath a half helm, the sword was too heavy it wouldn't lift. He lifted his sword, ready to cut her down. She stood frozen. His sword began crashing down, blade shinning fire. Blood hit her face. My blood? She opened her eyes, not realizing they were shut. The man sputtered, coughing blood in her face, red blooming from his chest. He slid limp to the ground. Behind him, Arya stood, covered in blood, thin sword shining.

"Sansa, we need to go! The trap door, under the barn!" She screamed.

Sansa stood there dumbly. She saved me, we're alive.

"Come on!" Arya pulled on her arms.

Sansa snapped out of it. "The girl!" she yelled back, and ran back towards where she stood, surrounded by smoke and slaughter. She grabbed her arm, and pulled. The girl wouldn't budge, but she pulled anyways. She caught back up to Arya, who lead them towards the barn.

The screams of animals could be heard from within, the flames raging on the walls. The one called Hot Pie came out. "Sam, Arry, come on! Lommy's gone, leave her if she won't come!"

Contrary to his word, Arya turned around and grabbed the crying girls other arm, helping Sansa drag her along. Hot Pie abandoned them. Gendry ran towards them, helm shining, great horns glowing as he grabbed the girl and tossed her over his shoulder. "Run!" He yelled, pushing them in front of him.

Once they were through the barn doors, it was like being in an oven. The air was stuck in her throat and Arya was coughing beside her. Black smoke swirled around them, the fire licking at the roof. The animals reared, burning alive. Lacey! she thought, but there was nothing she could do. The wagon with the three men was rocking with their efforts to escape. Arya stopped, pushing Sansa towards the open trap as the fire spread.

"Go on, don't stop until you're out!"

"No! Leave them, come with me!"

Arya ignored her, looking toward Gendry.

"Come on!" He yelled. "You two first, then me. Hurry, it's long."

She asked him where the axe was. "Take Sansa! You get her out!" she yelled.

"Who?"

"Sam! Get them both out! Do it!" And before they cold do anything, Arya ran back into the fire.

"NO! Sansa cried, but Gendry pulled on her arm. and pushed her into the trap. She fell five feet, landing hard on her legs. Pain shoot through her and she gulped the cool air down greedily.

"Catch her!" Gendry yelled down, before sending the crying girl after her. She barely caught her and moved her out of the way, before Gendry came down too.

"What about Arya?" She screamed

"Go!" He pushed her forward. She fell onto her hands and knees. Large hands urged her forward and she crawled. Tears streamed down her face and she felt like she was chocking. Arya. The stubborn little fool. Screams could be heard from above, and all she wanted to do was stop and die there before abandoning her life-line, her sister, but he forced her forward.

When they finally reached the opening, far from the holdfast, she sobbed on the cold ground, curling into a ball. She was alone again. Large hands lifted her up and cradled her. She hated him for making her leave. How could he just leave her sister like that? They'd been close since the creek. He always stood by their side, guarding them. It annoyed Arya, but she thought him valiant for it. He too was more of a knight than any true one like Ser Meryn or Trant could hope to be. But she was wrong, again. He left Arya behind. Sansa tried to push away from him, but his strong arms held her still. That's when she felt the wetness that was dropping onto her head, and realized he was crying, too.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his blue eyes clouded with pain "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He kept repeating.

They barely heard the light footsteps over their own anguished crying, only looking up when she collapsed before them. Arya, covered in blood and dirt and ash and coughing and gasping air, horribly sobbing.

* * *

_I Don't have a Beta, so I'm sure their are mistakes. I know this skipped a lot since the last chapter, but I felt this was more important. Please review! Constructive criticism is appreciated!_


	7. Bugs and Berries

Whew, finally updated. I had computer issues and then was busy (AKA extremely lazy, sorry!)

Joe Dempsie's part of Gendry reminded me of the best show ever (Skins UK) and I had to re-watch generation 1 and then recover from the many tears shed...on the point of Game of Thrones though, I am planning on following more of the book trail, though I like the show, I feel like they've f-d up the story (really, Arya is just now leaving!? And Gendry becomes Edric! NOO!)

Anyways...here is more of this awful fic and thank you for awesome comments

(PS) It has come to my attention that I've been messing up their, there, and they're. I'm sorry, it's a major pet peace of mine, but I haven't caught it each time (Any betas out there?)

* * *

The sky was too clear, too sunny for a day such as this. Clouds could be seen in the distance, an impending rain as Arya said. Moist air clung to hair and skin alike. Silence weighed heavily, except for the sound of feet dragging along and labored breathing, louder for some than others. Scurrying creatures and twittling of birds may have been pleasant and soothing once, but not anymore.

She was sick of it.

Sick of walking endlessly. Sick of being hungry. Sick of being a boy. Sick of being dirty. Sick of having hopes torn away.

Letting go of the tiny hand she held in hers, she stopped and promptly sat on the ground. Gendry and Arya kept walking with the boy called Lommy supported between them, assuming it was only Hot Pie who trailed far behind collapsing yet again, and ignored the softer thump that Sansa's light body made. Weasel looked down at her, confusion on her face. She didn't look like a weasel, and promised herself she'd find a better name, but her mind was too fuzzy now.

How long had they been walking? How long since they left the holdfast behind them once and for all, with Yoren's head a ruin? Seeing the man that had promised to take them home, killed by Lannisters and being buried had made her feel a sadness she hand't felt since seeing her father dead. Instead of crying as she had, Arya just looked angry, as if she'd ravage his corpse any second for, as she believed, failing them. She didn't know Sansa could see the tears waiting to fall in her eyes and could have sworn she heard Arya mutter direwolves never cry. She didn't tell her she was wrong, that Lady cried, but she tried not to think about that.

"What're you doing?" Hot Pie came lumbering behind her, his wheezing growing louder as he neared.

She did not dane him with an answer this time. She was supposed to be a Lady for gods sakes! She shouldn't be walking with a bunch of orphans in disgusting clothing without food! She should be have a handmaid waiting to bathe her with fresh food. It was different refusing to eat in Kingslanding, knowing it was there, but now that she actually wanted it, it was gone. How she wished for a lemon cake, or even the hard biscuits Yoren fed them. She wanted to be called 'my lady', and sew, receive dresses, and gossip with Jeyne. But what she wanted even more was to be in the warm halls of Winterfell, to have her mother brush her hair, to have Robb save her as always, and for Father's kind smile.

"Sam, get up." Arya hissed, bringing her out of her thoughts.

She looked up from her lap to see her sisters dirty face inches from her own, tugging at her arm. Behind her, Hot Pie still looked at her worriedly, Weasel was confused, and Gendry stood still up ahead with Lommy clinging to his back. The green-handed boy's leg was far gone, she refused to hold him after the first time with how disgusting it smelled.

"Sam, you have to get up." Her voice was kinder this time.

"No," she breathed faintly. Bringing her knees up, she brought them to her chest and rested her forehead on them. She hadn't prayed for true since leaving Kingslanding. Now, she just wanted Robb to come down and find them. To go to Kingslanding where she was believed to be, and find out the atrocities she had experienced, and scour the land for her. To save her leave all their heads up on the walls to be looked at. Arya was about to protest more, until the others piped up with their complaints.

"Arry, we've been walking for so long, can't we stop for some food." The fat one complained.

"Food?" Arya scoffed. "And wheres that? We won't get any if we don't keep walking and get where we need to be!"

They hadn't had real food in a while, that much was true. The most they'd had was a terribly bitter acorn paste that only made her more hungry. The few things else had been a measly frog and blackberries, except for Arya of course. She would dig up worms and bugs to eat them. When they had been little, so very long ago it felt, Arya had eaten one to make Sansa screech. She wished it was for the same reason now, not to fill the painful hunger buried in their gut, gnawing away at them. Slowly, ever so slowly, killing them. Maybe I should have jumped from the balcony after all, Sansa thought.

"Do we even know which direction we're going?" Gendry said pointedly. Sansa peered through her knees to see he'd set down a nodding Lommy against a tree across from them.

"Of course I do!" The 'orphan' walked away angrily, scuffing her bare, cracked feet along the forest floor. Sansa's shoes were rotting too, but it didn' seem right to part with them, her last semblance of propriety. A lady would never walk barefoot.

Hot Pie sighed in relief, and slumped to the ground on the left of her tree. Gendry still stood, torn between going after his friend and taking the rest they knew they all needed.

She closed her eyes and tried to pretend to be anywhere. Anywhere other than this. A sept, the godswood maybe, or her chambers. Imagining the Hot Pie's snores were little Rickon's. Anything, she thought, anywhere.

* * *

Left, right, up, up, left, down. Needle stabbed and whirled at the air, swift as a deer. Quick as a snake she stabbed right, Joffrey, left, Cersei, up, Ser Ilyn Payne, down, the Hound, and right again.

A stick cracking sounded behind her. She whipped around sword in the air, narrowly missing a neck.

"Arry! You almost cut my head off!" Gendry yelled from where he'd crouched down.

"Maybe you shouldn't sneak up on me!" She yelled back, sword still in hand. She felt guilty, but she'd be damned if she would be the one to apologize.

"What's wrong with you?" He continued angrily. "First you've ignored me since the holdfast, now you nearly killed me!"

"What's wrong with me?" She shouted as the anger that had been pent up for days filled her. It's better than being scared or sad, she thought. How could she help the betrayal she felt when seeing him hold Sansa? Perfect Sansa, always beautiful, always a lady, she even cried prettily, while Arya looked like a little ugly boy. Horse-faced Arya could never compare to her, even dressed as a boy with barely any hair. Just because Sansa didn't say it anymore didn't mean she didn't think it. "What's wrong with you? Why don't you go sleep like the rest of them and get us caught?"

"That's not the point," Gendry said stubbornly.

"Just go back to your lovely Sam," she mocked. Arya knew she was being mean, but at this point she could care less. Gendry's eyes went wide, and for a moment she thought she'd upset him and gone too far and he'd stalk off, but then he sputtered and started laughing. Any guilt she'd felt at that moment disappeared and was replaced with resentment.

"What?" She screamed though her throat felt like there was something stuck in it.

He was practically on the ground now, doubled over, holding his stomach like he was trying to keep it together as he guffawed. She felt like crying.

"That's what this is all about?" He tried to stifle laughs. "You're jealous about that?"

Arya felt her face grow hot and did what she always did. She ran. Turned and ran, humiliated. Just a stupid little girl, she thought. Now I'm just acting like Sansa. And he laughed at her, like she was a silly little child.

"Arry, wait!" He called after, having stopped laughing at her expense. She ignored him and his loud footsteps from crashing through the trees. Why couldn't he leave her alone? Her foot caught on a root yanking her down. Pain shot through her ankle, and she held her hands out to catch herself, landing hard on her hands.

"You all right?" Gendry clambered through the trees and quickly came to her side.

"Just shut up, stupid!" Arya said weakly. The air was too heavy, smelling like rotten fish.

"Let me help you." She slapped his hands away, standing up on her own and wincing.

"Look, I'm sorry, I never thought you'd be jealous." He laughed a bit, but stopped when she just stared at him. She pushed past him and started limping back the way she came.

"Stop" he whispered, and she ignored.

"Arry, listen to me!" He said harshly.

"What!" she snapped back. He grabbed her and put his hand on her mouth. She struggled and flailed, but he was much stronger and bigger. His other arm was wrapped around her chest, pulling her tight against him.

"Let me go, stupid! She yelled and struggled against his hands.

"Shut up!" He hissed in her ear, and she suddenly heard what he had. Voices. Horses. They'd stumbled near the edge of the trees, close to the lapping waters of Gods Eye. She'd been so preoccupied she hadn't noticed how close they had gotten to a village, the rotten fish smell becoming stronger, more rank and sour. Gendry removed his hand from her mouth, but kept holding her. She blushed, his other hand sat on her breast through the binding cloth.

"You can let me go now."

"Oh!" He practically lept away from her "Sorry." His face was red.

She rolled her eyes, and walked quietly back into the forest, where the trees grew taller. Arya scurried up one of the larger ones, ignoring the pain in her foot as she grabbed at the rough bark until she reached high above, to one of the last strong branches still hidden from view with leaves. She crouched lightly, her ankle straining beneath her. Every hurt is a lesson. A lesson against trusting a stupid bastard bull, she thought sourly. Light-footed, she stood, balancing on the tree limb. A water dancer never falls. She peered through the leaves to see the village. It wasn't different from the many villages, septs, and even castles they'd passed; burnt and devoid of life. Yet smoke came from the chimneys and men and horses stood outside. Beside the serene waters of Gods Eye, long figures hung from a wooden post. She hoped the men in the village were not the ones to cause that. Slipping down the tree, she landed with a big oomph, and accepted Gendry's hand after some thought to lift her up.

"What'd you see?" He inquired. He always knew when to leave a subject and let it go, she decided to stop being angry at him for what he did, at least for now. She was just being silly after all.

"Men."

"I got that, but what kind?"

"How am I supposed to know? We'll have to go closer."

"We should let the others know first."

"You go ahead, I'll go scout." He took on that pained look on his face, a scowl deepening under his growing beard, and brows furrowing beneath his shaggy hair.

"No, we'll both go."

"You're too loud!"

"We'll both go, I said."

"Fine," she growled. Maybe she'd hold a grudge after all.

* * *

Notes:

To be continued! (Possibly later tonight?)

Much more to this chapter. From here on out, the chapters will be much more consecutive (some continuing immediately after like this next one) instead of having gaps of time.

Please point out mistakes and things I could do better! I will update this soon, hopefully every two days or less for each chapter.


	8. Spears and Helms

Notes:

This one's a shorty.

* * *

_Shit_. It just had to be him that got caught.

One moment he was watching the men through the bushes and the red and gold banner, the next he was being hit in the head. The steel of his helm rang in his ears as he was dragged forward. It took him by so much surprise, that he'd barely been able to hear again before he was thrown before two spearmen.

_IDIOT_! Arry would kill him if they didn't. The man that grabbed him pulled him to his feet.

"Where'd ya find 'im?" One of the spearmen asked. He had a crappy half helm and mismatched pieces of armor.

"Hidin' in them bushes, where else?" His capture said.

"Well add 'em to the rest."

"Wait—" The third one finally spoke. His face was plain, but meanness hid in those eyes.

"Any others with you boy?" he asked, snatching his helm off his head.

"No" Gendry spat.

"We don't take too well to liars, boy, where are they?"

"What, you gon' sniff them out like dogs for your lion lord? No, i said, I ain't got anybody else with me."

The spearman whacked him across his face with the spear's butt, promising to question him later, to which the other laughed. He landed on the hard ground from the force and the one who'd captured him kicked him in the stomach. He heaved air, regretting his moment of courage. They lifted him and he didn't put up a fight. I'll have to save my strength if I want to get out of this, he thought, but knew he'd never be able to take this many men.

They dragged him to the large storehouse, opening the doors. The sound of sobbing reached his ears and a young boy ran out, his face and body covered in bruises, his clothing mere rags. The guard to Gendry's right stuck out his hand and was able to grab the boys arm before throwing him back inside. The boy yelped at his rough treatment and a girl near Gendry's age shrieked before rushing to help him.

Her face had dried blood, and her dress was in rags where they'd ripped off the bottom. The large purple spots on her thighs showed they'd done more than beat her. He felt like he might retch. Run, Arry, don't try to play the hero.

They shoved him inside roughly. Before he could stand, they'd shut and barred the door, encasing them in darkness. Only the last of light came through the cracks of the wood as the sun went down. He tried to make out how many figures there were in the darkness, but there were too many. The muffled sound of crying and pained breathing surrounded him.

"What is this place?" Gendry asked no one.

"Don't talk so loud," someone whispered fervently "it just makes 'em hurt us."

"Why are you all here?" He made sure to be quiet this time.

"They're trying to find a brotherhood." A different voice responded.

"We used to live in this village," it was the girl who helped the little boy. "Some came from others like ours, too, they killed anyone with weapons, keeping us girls, and anyone too old or weak to fight." Dread grew on him. He prayed to the Mother that Arry had more sense than to get caught, or worse try to save him. Hopefully she'll go back to the others and get far away from here. It didn't matter if her and Sam were dressed like boys, it'd only be a matter of time before they'd find out, and then... there'd be nothing he could do.

As the little bit of sunlight disapeared, it was replaced with a glowing orange. They must've lit a fire for the night. He tried to block out the whimpers around him, the future he was bound to experience now.

He'd miss her. Arry. So fiery she was, yet vulnerable nonetheless. He still couldn't believe she was jealous of Sam. He'd done as she said, even though it hurt, it was either that or they all die. He was certain she would be fine and take care of herself, but when Sam cried, the girl who Arry seemed so protective of, in fear of her dying, he had doubted himself. How could I expect a little girl to live through a fire, he'd thought. Sam had been muttering that he left her, and he'd broken down. He didn't know comforting the girl and himself would make Arry ignore him for days afterward. It made him more upset than he wanted to admit.

"Who's there?" A voice boomed from outside. No sound came, other than a scuffle and more men coming to the scene and finally what sounded like a growl.

Oh no, not her too. No other thing could make a sound like that of little Arry angry. The sound of iron-clad fist hitting flesh sent shivers through him. Just shut up Arry.

"Think they were with the Bull boy?"

They? Who else was she with?

"Awfully pretty for a boy, ain't ya?" Another voice said, and a small whimper sounded.

"He's a mute." Arry said. It must be Sam.

Some more talking, before a low deep voice he hadn't yet heard said, "You'll lead us to the others," before his heavy footsteps faded away. His voice set a few of the prisoners scurrying as well. He wondered what was worse about him than the others.

He waited for what seemed like hours and half dozed off before the door opened and three figures were thrown in.

A few minutes later a small broken voice whisper, "Gendry?"

"I'm here." Upon hearing his voice, the three shadows moved closer to him. He could see Hot Pie through the lie coming in with shiny streaks on his face. What he thought was only one form was actually Sam with little Weasel, crying again, in her arms. Arry came closest to him. That left Lommy.

"Where's—" He was cut off by the look on Arry's face. Her grey eyes so usually filled with fierce determination were empty and brimming with barely contained rage. He knew what must have happened and guilt filled him. He waited for Arry to blame him, to yell and call him stupid for getting them caught, he wanted her too, but no sound came.


End file.
